


Baby It's Cold Outside

by theyalwayssay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen, Human Female Impala, Human Impala, Impala Fic, Kid Fic, Platonic Relationships, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyalwayssay/pseuds/theyalwayssay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Found: A black 1967 Chevy Impala. Answers to the name of Paula. Do not call Baby under any circumstances, unless you answer to the name of Dean Winchester.12 years old, black hair, brown eyes. Suspected owner to be Archangel Gabriel. Call Sunnyside motel to collect the inexplicable human. Warning: May unexpectedly regurgitate childhood memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perfectlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlight/gifts).



> So first of all, happy Christmas! Yes, I know, I'm about two hours late, but what with the Doctor Who Christmas special ripping apart my soul and the recipient of this fic living it up in Orlando, I gave myself a touch of leeway. And to explain why this isn't my usual fic, I'll have you know that I have waged a sportsman-like little bet on whether my friend, who is famous for her domestic kid fics, can write some good old innuendo-filled pairings while I try my hand at writing kid fic. For this, I though I'd take the tried and true human!Impala AU and jazz it up a little bit. Everything can be improved by the addition of a petulant child. If you'd like, head on over to perfectlight's page after New Year's to check out her fics and tell us which of the two you thought better operated outside their comfort zone! And to answer the question which I'm sure is plaguing you, yes, I will be updating Path to the Promised Land in the next few days. Thanks so much for reading!

The whole room smelled of cigarettes, like the smoke had burrowed into the greasy wallpaper like maggots and left belching, rotting carcasses in their place. It filled the room and even made the food and their clothes reek something chronic. At the very least, it explained the cheapness of the place. There was something to be said for the Men of Letters bunker. It was, at the very least, clean. But a job was a job was a job. And, Dean supposed, the freezing Christmas air at least stifled the odor.

The first thing Dean noticed when he woke up was the conspicuous lack of shadows in the room. The Impala had been parked right outside, the black of the hood sending the windowsill into shadow. But there it was, lit in cold, crisp sunlight.

“Sammy!” Dean called, sitting up. Sam walked out of the bathroom, a toothbrush hanging limply from his mouth.

“Wha-?”

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed, striding over to the motel room door and putting his hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to ask if you took the car out and parked her somewhere else. And if the answer’s no, I’m gonna kill someone.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked, pulling the toothbrush from his lips.

Dean turned the doorknob and shouldered open the door, gesturing towards the empty parking space.

“I want you to tell me that it’s all a bad dream,” he said. “Just lie to me if you have to, man.”

“Dean, I didn’t take the car out. If it’s gone, then it’s gone,” Sam replied forcefully, walking over towards the window. “Close the door, it’s freezing. I don’t see…oh,” he said, staring out into the parking lot.

“What?” Dean asked, looking through the door. His mouth unhinged like it had suddenly gone slack. The parking space was empty, certainly, but there was something in the place of the Impala, something breathing and rolling over and staring at him with dark, almond-shaped eyes.

“What-” Dean asked, stepping slowly out of the motel and into the parking lot. Their bags and weapons were strewn around in a great heap, like someone had thrown them out before taking the car. The person lying in the middle of the parking space looked no older than twelve, and was wearing a plaid shirt that nearly went down to her knees, her legs and face smeared with gravel, grease and dirt.

The girl got to her feet slowly, rolling her head so that her neck cracked loudly. She stared from Dean to Sam, still standing dumbstruck at the window, and back again before putting her hands on her hips and sighing loudly.

“Fuck.”

***

“Dean,” Sam said, carrying the last of their bags in from the parking lot and shutting the door. “I’m just going to repeat back what you just said to me. You think a little girl jacked the Impala and then slept in the empty parking space. In the middle of a snowdrift. In the middle of December. That _is_ what you’re saying to me, right?”

“Look man, I don’t know!” Dean replied angrily. “Maybe someone left her there before driving off. You think I have any idea what’s going on?”

The bathroom door banged open, and the girl walked out, her black hair damp and hanging nearly to her waist, most of the dirt scrubbed from her skin. “This room is dreary as fuck,” she said, sitting down in the middle of the floor.

Sam glanced at Dean, who couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Sam glared at him. Dean looked over at his brother, cleared his throat and adopted a serious expression. “Don’t talk like that,” he said to the little girl.

“Why not?” she replied, rolling over so she was lying on her stomach. “You talk like that. All the time.”

“…Sorry, how do you know that?” Dean asked, staring at her in bewilderment. The girl huffed, as though she couldn’t believe how much of her time was being wasted.

“Where’s the car gone?” she asked in a mock deep-voice deep voice of Dean, raising her hands and shrugging, her palms pointed at the ceiling. Then she smiled cheekily and waved at the two of them. “Hello!”

Dean stared at her, his mouth open. “No way,” he said quietly. “No fucking way.”

“Ha!” she cried, pointing at him. “Told you! I get it from you, stupid!”

Dean turned to Sam. “Dude, what the hell?”

“I don’t know,” Sam replied, looking lost.

Dean rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, hearing the tap-tap-tapping of the little girl’s feet on the floorboards as she raised one, then the other into the air.

“You’ve no idea how weird it is to have feet all of a sudden,” she said. “They’re so gross, all squidgy and pink. And wobbly. What’s the point of having feet if they don’t work properly?” Suddenly, she jumped to her feet. “There was a playground.”

She rushed past Dean, pulling open the motel door. “Bye!” she called, slamming it shut behind her.

Dean looked over at Sam’s startled face, getting to his feet and pulling open the door. Looking out, he saw a flash of red plaid as the little girl ran towards the plastic swing set that stood like a grim memento mori at the edge of the parking lot. She stumbled up to one of swings, pulling herself up onto the seat.

“We should probably go get her,” Sam said, watching the spectacle with a troubled expression. Dean nodded in agreement, and together they set off across the snowy lot.  
By the time they got to the playground, however, there was somebody already there, pushing the little girl on the swing.

“Ain’t she just a doll?” the man called as she laughed, soaring higher and higher on the swing. “One of my favourites, I must say. I love children.”

As one, Dean and Sam pulled their guns from behind their backs. Gabriel stepped back, raising his hands defensively. “You guys! You’re obviously not feeling the Christmas cheer. At least think of the kid,” he said, jerking his head at the little girl, who dragged her heels in the snow, jerking the swing to a stop.

“Why are you doing this, Gabriel?” Sam asked, his eyes fixed firmly on the archangel.

“Haven’t you ever heard that the truest joy is bringing life into the world? And joy is the reason for the season, after all.”

“So you’re forcing us to take care of this kid?” Dean asked.

“That, and try to get your ass in a new car. Maybe try a Prius? Better for the environment and all.”

“I…I don’t understand,” the girl asked. “It was you? You were the one who gave me a body?”

Gabriel nodded.

“But that was a nice thing to do,” she continued, gazing at him in confusion, “and you’re supposed to be a dick.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows raised. “Yes, and Dean is supposed to be banging an angel in your backseat. Isn’t this just the Christmas of surprises!” he turned back face the two brothers, glancing at Dean’s finger as it tightened on the trigger. 

“It’s not permanent, boys, I promise,” he said, trying and failing to sound placating. “I’m just giving our favourite little automobile a chance to experience Christmas when she’s not having to carry your asses around.”

“You still haven’t explained why you’re doing this,” Sam said angrily.

“Because I’m bored,” Gabriel groaned, leaning forward on his toes and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Christmas for an angel sucks, having to see gross little china-doll bastardizations of yourself everywhere. Personally, I find the idea of watching you two try and take care of a child to be far more entertaining and unlikely than getting any other action this season. Much better than turning it into some sexpot chick you could bone,” he said, nodding at Dean. “This little sweetheart, on the other hand? Utterly dependent, adorable and fragile. Your worst nightmares.” 

He gave them a two-fingered salute, stepping back into a snowdrift and winking. “Stay pretty, Winchesters. And if you want the car back, don’t forget to play the game.”

There was a flutter, and he was gone.

“Shit!” Dean hissed, stuffing his gun back into his waistband. “Someday I’m going to waste his ass, you wait.”

“So we have to deal with her?” Sam asked, nodded at the girl, who was sitting with her arms crossed on the swing.

“Well, you’re doing a piss-poor job of it,” she spat. “You haven’t even called me by my name.”

“I…you have a name?”

She shrugged. “I thought I did. You used to call me Baby, back when I had wheels,” she said, looking hopefully up at Dean.

“I’m not walking around calling a little girl Baby,” Dean said emphatically. “People’ll think I’m some kind of pervert. No, it’s…Impala…Imp…Pala. Paula? Sure, Paula works.”

He glanced down at the girl, who frowned appraisingly, as though tasting the name. “Hi, Paula,” Dean said, smirking.

“Okay,” Sam said, raising his hands. “So what exactly do we have to do to get her back? How are we going to do this job if we don’t have a car?”

Their conversation was interrupted as Paula leaned over and vomited into the snow. Dean put a hand over his mouth as his throat convulsed. Sam strode forward and pulled Paula from the swing, putting a tight arm around her shoulder. “Holy shit,” he whispered, staring down at the partially melted snow.

Despite his common sense, Dean looked down at the pile of sick sitting on the slush. Sitting in the pool of clear liquid was a green army man and two Legos. Next to Sam, Paula coughed into her hand, which came back peppered with blood.

Dean sighed, nodding. “We’re going to have to call someone in.”

***

“Where is she?”

“By the TV, watching A Christmas Story.”

Cas leaned around the doorframe, analyzing the little figure in front of the screen. As if on cue, she let out a twittering laugh.

Dean stood there with his arms folded. “Fix it.”

“I can’t,” Cas replied sharply. “If this is Gabriel’s doing, then he’s the only one who can reverse it. I was able to heal her, but there’s a difference between a minor laceration of the throat and reverting the nature of an inanimate object. You do remember the last time I tried to help you two where Gabriel was concerned, right? I’m not planning on doing that again.”

“It’s the same thing as when he trapped us in TVLand,” Sam said from his seat on the couch. “He told us to play our parts.”

“Which would be, I assume, taking care of this child,” Cas said. “It appears to be the same as most human Christmas films. You are to show her the true meaning of Christmas, yes?”

Sam and Dean met glances. Dean groaned and thumped the back of his head against the wall.

“Fine, but you’re staying with us,” Sam said. “There’s no way we’re going to be able to handle this ourselves.”

Cas frowned. “I think you overestimate my talent in caring for children.”

“And you overestimate our patience for you brother being a dick,” Dean retorted. “I’m not going to waste my time trying to make the bells ring for this kid unless it’s guaranteed I get my car back. Are you going to help us or not?”

***

“Why are we driving through here?” Paula called from the backseat.

“That’s an excellent question,” Cas said, looking up from where he was fiddling with his seatbelt. “Why are we doing this?”

“It’s what you do at Christmas,” Dean muttered over the steering wheel. “…I think. It is, right?” he asked, glancing at Sam.

“I think so. I think I saw it on a movie or something once,” Sam replied.

“But putting electric lights on houses? They’re so ugly. Who’s idea was that?” Paula groaned, leaning her head against the window.

“All right, if you’re just going to complain I’ll turn the car around,” Dean exclaimed.

“Good! I hate riding in cars,” Paula retorted. “It’s not like it’s anything new. I’ve been doing the same thing for 46 years.”

Dean huffed, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. There was a squeak as the backseat window of the Prius was rolled down. “What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“The stars are prettier than the lights,” Paula replied, sticking her head out of the car, her black hair flying behind her like a pennant. “You don’t get to look at the sky. You don’t look up, only forward. You can get electricity anywhere. But stars are magic.”

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it. He had always hated the sound of an open car window, that awful flapping of the freezing wind that made his ears hurt. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to roll it up. Ever since she’d appeared there were these rolling thoughts, like spokes on a wheel, that he couldn’t seem to get out of his head. The hood of the Impala blasting through a plexiglass sign. A truck slamming into the door. The car, smoking and rotting, left in an abandoned town…

Dean blinked, stuffing his wrinkled thoughts down into the corner of his mind. He just wanted the car back. Hell, if it meant he had to sing carols with the kid, he’d do it.  
“Come on, the lights aren’t all bad,” Dean said, rolling down the car window and leaning out into the frigid air. “How about that one? Icicle lights? You have to admit, that’s pretty sick.”

Paula groaned.

“Just enjoy the Christmas spirit, damn it, and stop being so ungrateful!” he snapped, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. Sam glared at him.

“Dean,” Cas said, leaning forward from the backseat, “I’m not sure if that’s going to help-” but his words were interrupted by a sniffling from the window. Dean closed his eyes, mentally cursing himself in every way he knew how.

“Fine, let’s go back,” he muttered, pulling the car into a driveway and spinning it around, trying to ignore the tearful dark eyes staring at him in the rearview window, slowly constricting his heart.

***

“Wake up!”

“I’ll kill whatever’s on me,” Dean muttered, rolling over and forcing the little figure to clamber off of him, kneeling beside him on the bed.

“It’s Christmas! You’re supposed to wake up early,” Paula hissed reprovingly.

“Three in the morning does _not_ count as waking up early,” Sam groaned, slamming the motel’s alarm clock back onto the nightstand. “It counts as a very long nap.”

“Get _up_ , there’s presents,” Paula said insistently, climbing off of Dean’s bed and running over to where Castiel was sitting on the couch. “See? Castiel knows what to do on Christmas; he’s already up.”

“He’s always up,” Dean grumbled. He hadn’t expected Paula to be nearly as cheery as she was. They had pulled into the motel and walked into the room without saying a word.

Pamela had settled into the corner of the room, shaking her head vehemently when Sam had asked if she’d like to sleep somewhere more comfortable. She’d watched stonily as Dean walked back and forth across her path, her bottom lip jutting out and occasionally trembling. Her eyes seemed to grow steadily bitter until there were two small brown planets staring at Dean as he climbed into bed, turning determinedly away from her. 

Cas turned off the lamp, and as the room was plunged into icy darkness, she muttered, “Who gives a shit about lame Christmas lights anyway?”

“How did you manage to get presents?” Sam asked, rubbing his eyes as he sad up. The sky was still in the stage of new crispness, the frigid sun reflecting off the black ice of the pavement. “You don’t have any money, do you?”

“No, but there was an old five-dollar bill in the glove compartment,” she said, shrugging. “The rest I already had.” Her shoulders slumped. “I didn’t screw up, did I? Aren’t you supposed to have presents at Christmas? That’s what it says in the movies.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sam said quickly, running a hand though his hair.

“Okay!” Paula replied, perking up immediately. She ran over to the couch and pulled a slightly soggy brown paper bag from behind it, shoving it into Castiel’s hand.

“It’s not alive, is it?” he asked reproachingingly as he reached into the bag. His face lit up as he pulled a burger wrapped in bright tin foil from the bag.

“You left the wrappers all over the front seat,” Paula said, sounding slightly abashed. In reply, Castiel tore open a corner and sunk his teeth in.

“Thank you,” he mumbled through a full mouth.

Paula ran over to Sam’s bed and stuck her head underneath the bedskirt, pulling out from underneath a dusty white cassette tape.

“You haven’t played it in years,” she said, handing it to him. “I thought you might have forgotten about it.”

Sam turned it over, eyes squinting to read the Sharpie inscription.

“The Beatles?” he asked, turning the tape over in confusion.

Dean leaned over, snatching the tape from his brother’s hand. “That’s mom’s writing,” he said quietly, staring at the cassette title.

“She used to play it all the time in the car,” Paula explained. “Back when you two were little. You favourite,” she indicated Dean, “was ‘Hey Jude,’ and Sam’s was ‘Blackbird.’”

“I thought that dad threw this out.”

“Bottom of the glove compartment, underneath the insurance detailing, stuck between the plastic molding of the hood and the dashboard,” Paula recited proudly. Sam looked down at the cassette, nodding slowly. “Your mother would always sing along,” Paula continued, her voice quieter. “She knew all the lyrics to all the songs. And sometimes Dean would sing with her, and you’d clap your hands to the music as though you knew what they were saying. Those were the times when, I noticed…you always seemed your happiest…”

Sam nodded quickly. “Thanks Paula. It’s…yea. Thank you,” he cleared his throat, placing the cassette carefully on the bedside table. Paula spun around to face Dean, who raised an expectant eyebrow at her.

“And for Dean, I got you this!” 

From behind her back, Paula pulled a gold emblem dangling from a black string.

“Do you like it?” she asked giddily. “You lost it in the back of the trunk underneath the weapons compartment for years. It’s a good thing I’m able-”

Her words were cut off as the motel door slammed shut, Dean walking out into the wintery parking lot.

***

“Dean?”

“No.”

“You have to talk to me.”

“I don’t.”

“You had no problems talking to me when I was the Impala.”

“Because you were a car!” Dean snapped. “Hell, I knew that my life was weird, but I didn’t think it would come to the point that I’d have to have heart-to-hearts with my Pippi Longstocking car-girl!”

Paula put her hands on her hips, glaring at Dean. “Now, you listen to me,” she said threateningly. “That was no way to behave. The Christmas spirit isn’t about storming from the room.”

“Where did you get that?” Dean demanded, gesturing at the gold amulet, which was still wrapped around her small fist.

“I told you. Sam threw it into the trunk of the car and then put weapons over it. I assumed that it’d gotten buried by accident. I didn’t think there’d be a reason you wouldn’t want to see it,” she muttered, staring furiously down at the snow. She sniffed as a tear dripped from her nose and landed in the frost.

“Don’t, don’t do that,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have to deal with all your baggage. You’re the car, all this does is make everything more diffi-”

“Why? Now that I’m human, you don’t want to talk to me?” she screamed, looking up to stare at him, her red face burning. “If I was still the Impala or someone you could have sex with, then you’d still love me! But now that I’m not what you wanted me to be, you hate me? You’re supposed to protect people, Dean. That’s what you always said. And you were great at it, except for all the times you screwed me over!”

“I’m not going to be read the riot act by my _car _!”__

__“Why, because it’s true?” Paula sniffed, her tears pouring faster and faster over her round cheeks, which she rubbed with the back of her fists impatiently. She huffed, seeming to be trying to regain control of herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you would get angry. I just knew that you used to wear this necklace all the time, and then suddenly you didn’t. I thought you might want it back. It was the only thing you wore when you had sex with that redhead angel, anyway,” she smirked._ _

__Dean did not laugh._ _

__“Okay,” Paula said, gulping and adopting a serious expression. “You need to know that I don’t know what happens when you’re not in the car. I don’t know when or where you and Sam get into a fight unless it happens while I’m there. So you can’t…you can’t be mad at me for not knowing something. I mean, you can, but you shouldn’t. ‘Cos that’s a really mean thing to do. Too mean for you to do.”_ _

__She held up the necklace meekly._ _

__“Please take it. You always seemed so much happier with it. And it’s supposed to give you protection,” she smiled. “I can’t always be there to protect you.”_ _

__Dean glanced down at her face, round and shining like a moon, and couldn’t help but let a small smile escape him. He never had been good with kids. He was a ‘mama bear’ according to Charlie, who teased him about it whenever she got the chance, but he was no caretaker. A car was easy, all gears and buttons and levers and metal; one great big puzzle piece. But a child actually meant something. They could think for themselves, and wander off properly. And they couldn’t ever forget._ _

__“Sometimes I think you don’t care about me at all,” Paula continued, leaning next to Dean against the hood of the car. “I do everything you ask me to do. And y-you hit me with a tire iron. And-” she stopped to wipe her eyes. “And it hurt. And it hurts because I know that you’re hurting too. And I wish there was something I could do to help. But the only thing I know how to do is drive. And that’s not what you need. Without you and Sam, I’d be a scrapheap. So I’m just trying to say thank you.”_ _

__She looked up at Dean, and she seemed to be unaware of the tears dripping steadily down the collar of the enormous plaid shirt she wore._ _

__“Just ‘cos, ‘cos I don’t know if I’ll get another chance…can I give you a hug?”_ _

__It took every ounce of strength Dean had to nod._ _

__***_ _

__The first thing he noticed when he woke on Boxing Day was the lack of a little girl lying in the corner of the room._ _

__“Paula?” he called. There was no answer._ _

__“Sammy!”_ _

__“I’ve been looking, Dean,” Sam answered as he opened the motel door, stamping the snow from his shoes. “She’s been changed back. Come look.”_ _

__Dean jumped out of the bed and walked out into the parking lot. The Impala was back, sitting in its parking space as though it had never moved. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something drawn in the snow. He walked over to read the large note that looked like it had been carved into the frost with the toe of a boot._ _

___Merry Christmas, jackasses._ _ _

__Sam reached in through the driver’s seat window, turning the key in the ignition. Immediately, music began pouring out of the radio._ _

___Blackbird singing in the dead of night,  
Take these broken wings and learn to fly..._ _ _

__Dean walked around the perimeter of the car. It was in perfect shape, not a single scratch or dent. He examined the hood carefully. It was a few moments before he noticed something gold wrapped around the antenna. He reached forward and carefully untied the amulet, rolling the cold metal in his hand. Sam glanced at him._ _

__“So, you took it back?”_ _

__Dean shrugged. “Did you really think it was a good idea to disappoint the kid?”_ _

__Sam nodded. “You two looked like the perfect postcard family, hugging in the snow…”_ _

__“Okay Sammy, that’ll do.”_ _

__“You crying…”_ _

__“I was _not_ crying.”_ _

__“Yea, you were,” Sam called over his shoulder as he walked back to the motel door, shutting it behind him and leaving Dean in the snow._ _

__He leaned against the hood, patting it fondly._ _

__“Merry Christmas, Baby.”_ _

__And although it may just have been his imagination, he thought he heard the engine purr._ _


End file.
